


Sacred Things

by LuvEwan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M, Master/Padawan Sex, Regret, Tumblr Prompt, master/padawan relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvEwan/pseuds/LuvEwan
Summary: He could have said no, gently guided Obi-Wan into meditation, talked to him about the confusing nature of physical attraction. He could have acted as a Master.A Jedi.Instead, he is acting as a man.





	Sacred Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt given to me by the amazingly talented JDylah_da_Kylah:
> 
> Hello there, friend! I have a hurt / comfort prompt for ya. :) What about a scenario where either Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon is struggling with feelings of shame / regret / guilt after they make love for the first time (because of vows / the Code / etc.), and the other has to calm him down? (Obi-Wan might be the "obvious" choice for the one to be panicking, but I think it might be really interesting if it's Qui-Gon, *but* I'm also a sucker for Obi-Wan sneakily playing the role of Master.) :P
> 
> I didn’t go as in depth as I wanted, but here is what I came up with. Thank you for the awesome prompt, friend!

Qui-Gon pushes, pushes, pushes. Sweat rolls down his back.

“That’s..that’s alright?” He manages to whisper, in a hot gust of breath. His lips graze Obi-Wan’s ear, the graze becomes a lingering, soft kiss. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan moans, and leans his head back, and Qui-Gon is not sure if it’s in answer to his question, or a mindless utterance of pleasure. 

He caresses the bare hips, hand sliding around bones there. He has never felt Obi-Wan this way. He is reminded of how much slighter the younger man is, trim and narrow, a finer musculature. He knows Obi-Wan is untried, though he doesn’t sense pain from his Padawan. 

No, Obi-Wan is rolling back onto him, and Qui-Gon watches his thick cock disappear within Obi-Wan, over and over. 

He knows how Obi-Wan feels everywhere. He has known his presence in the Force for a long time, unique and luminous, but now he knows how he feels inside. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan’s body. 

Qui-Gon turns him over onto his back, on the bed. Milky, moonlit skin against white sheets. Blue, half-lidded eyes, flashing with expectation. A long auburn braid, coiled over his right shoulder. 

Qui-Gon swallows and glances away, out at the dark alien sky beyond the room’s window. He has condemned himself. He doesn’t quite believe he is kneeling here, between Obi-Wan’s legs. 

It happened quickly. Obi-Wan kissing him, guiding Qui-Gon’s hand inside his tunic. 

It happened slowly. He’s been aware of the subtle changes for months. Looks, touches. 

He could have said no, gently guided Obi-Wan into meditation, talked to him about the confusing nature of physical attraction. He could have acted as a Master.

A Jedi. 

Instead, he is acting as a man. 

Obi-Wan looks beautiful, the planes of his slender body gleaming with perspiration. He pants, arms laying at his sides, erection stiff and weeping. 

Qui-Gon knows it is wrong. He grasps the needful column of flesh, pumping firmly, watching Obi-Wan’s reserved nature disappear completely. His Padawan bucks into his hand and curses, _curses_, between gritted teeth. He gazes up at Qui-Gon and smiles, sighs, reaching for him even as his approaching climax tenses his thighs.

Qui-Gon has seen something like this look before. When he was far younger, in a room similar to this room, with plain curtains and thin, faded carpeting. He made love to Tahl, and in her green eyes, threaded with gold, he glimpsed love.

The kind not meant for Jedi. 

But Tahl had not been his Padawan, had not been _twenty_. 

Obi-Wan asks for Qui-Gon to fill him again. “Need you there...to come…” He makes even a filthy request sound graceful.

Necessary. 

Qui-Gon is doomed. Helpless. He knows how well they fit together. He wants that as much as Obi-Wan. More, because Obi-Wan feels so good, like sliding into a snug, velvet warmth made for him. Qui-Gon spits on his fingers and spreads it down his already lubricated cock. 

The Force overflows with relief when they join. Obi-Wan throws his arm over his eyes as Qui-Gon thrusts. 

Qui-Gon avoids the window, the regular night taking place outside this room. They remind him how life, in its frank reality and consequences, continues to exist. 

Obi-Wan wraps his legs around Qui-Gon’s waist and pulls him in. His cheeks are flushed.

Qui-Gon leans forward on his elbows, his unbound hair falling around them. He cannot see the window, or the judgement of streetlights. Only Obi-Wan, looking at him in that rare way, kissing him while they both come.

——-

They wash together and then Obi-Wan climbs, naked, back into bed. 

Qui-Gon admires the line of his body, the gradual curve between shoulder and hip, muscled calf half-hidden under the creased sheet. Moonlight follows that same line, and Qui-Gon wants to trace it too, with his fingers. He wants to lay beside Obi-Wan and touch him slowly, without the pounding urgency of arousal. Hold him until he drifts to sleep.

He realizes he is standing and staring when Obi-Wan turn back to look at him. “Master?” 

It sounds innocent, the instinctive habit of the past eight years, but Qui-Gon feels the recycled air stir cooly against his bare cock, and he is nearly nauseous with shame. _Master_. He would tell Obi-Wan not to call him that, not _now_, but he is Obi-Wan’s Master, always. Being Obi-Wan’s Master has been the greatest honor in his life.

He cannot deny that he is Obi-Wan’s Master, any more than he can deny that he has failed Obi-Wan tonight. 

His stomach knots at the thought but he smiles, slipping into bed. The sheets are warmed by Obi-Wan, carrying the scent of him, of _them_. 

For a few minutes, they lay in silence.

Obi-Wan moves first, looking at him through the grey dark. “Was it...good?”

Qui-Gon hears hesitation in Obi-Wan’s voice, a stark contrast to the man from earlier that evening who straddled his lap and begged to be taken once, just once… He strokes his thumb along the hand closest to him. “Very good,” Qui-Gon murmurs. 

He is not humoring a nervous new lover. It was better than good. It was so good, in fact, that he wants to flee the room, as he would flee a particularly vicious form of danger. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan inched closer, close enough to settle his head on Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

The simple action pierces his heart. Qui-Gon presses a kiss to the soap-sweet temple and wet hair. Gradually, he pivots to his side, and flattens his palm against Obi-Wan’s stomach. He feels him breathing. _My Padawan_. He swallows. “It didn’t hurt?”

Obi-Wan takes a moment to answer, and Qui-Gon tenses. He knows he is larger than many men, but they had taken ample time to prepare Obi-Wan, and chosen basic positions—

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan says at last, sounding only tired, sated.

Qui-Gon exhales through his nose and kisses the back of Obi-Wan’s head. A cloud car passes by the window, and his heart hammers. He imagines eyes on him. “I never want to hurt you, Obi-Wan.”

“I know,” the reply is loose, muddled from exhaustion. And trustful. 

Qui-Gon strokes his arm, kisses his shoulder, cheek, hair, and Obi-Wan drifts like that, emanating contentment in the Force. 

—-

But Qui-Gon does not sleep. He cannot stop thinking of the Council, of eyes and whispers, what would happen if someone knew. He could endure the punishment; his reputation stopped meaning anything to him years ago. Obi-Wan, however, is a different matter. His apprentice is ambitious. He aspires to join the Council. 

He is only twenty. 

_I am supposed to protect him. Lead him down the path of the Light. _

Qui-Gon watches Obi-Wan sleep. The finality, the irreversibility of what he’s done, hangs over the room like a sullen fog. He knows it will follow him when they leave here, to the next mission, back to Coruscant. Even if no one else ever discovers their indiscretion, Qui-Gon will still wear the brand, for he has betrayed an essential tenet of the Code. 

Worse, he has betrayed Obi-Wan.

Would the Council expel Obi-Wan, if they knew? Would he wear the brand too, and never accomplish his goals? 

He lays awake and imagines the night as it began, with Obi-Wan’s sweet pleas. He imagines himself being stronger, pulling Obi-Wan to his feet and placing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

_I am flattered_, his stronger self would have said, _but you know we cannot. You are young, and my student besides. There can never be true equality between us, not as we are now. _

Qui-Gon’s throat tightens. He has faltered as a Master before. With Xanatos, he had been blind to the boy’s faults. And he held himself apart from Obi-Wan for far too long, afraid of his anger, more afraid of his unwavering loyalty. 

_Is this why he desired me? Approval?_

_And what have I taught him by succumbing? _

Obi-Wan stirs, pressing closer, his ass pushing against Qui-Gon’s groin. His stomach feels sick, even as his cock reacts to the friction. 

_Force_, he scoots backward, but Obi-Wan follows, rolling to his back. 

The yellow moon washes over his face. Qui-Gon pauses, unwilling to disturb the slumbering man again, despite the fact his hardening cock is trapped beneath him.

He drops his forehead to Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes open. He releases a groggy sigh, stretching. “It’s alright.”

Qui-Gon touches his cheek. “It’s not.” He allows his voice to crack. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers land on the rigid flesh. He misunderstands. “Really, it’s alright. What else would I expect? It’s a natural reaction.”

Qui-Gon withdraws, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around his lower half. “Forgive me, Obi-Wan, but there is nothing natural about this. I’ve..you..” He sucks in a trembling breath, “I have strayed from the path of the Jedi, and dragged you along with me.”

Obi-Wan sits up too. He frowns, squeezing Qui-Gon’s covered knee. “I don’t think that.”

Qui-Gon shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I should have protected you—“

“From what?” Obi-Wan counters, “I do not need to be protected from my own desires. I didn’t begin to feel this way yesterday. I’ve given this plenty of consideration, I’ve meditated—“

Qui-Gon snorts. “You are a thoughtful person, Obi-Wan. But your own thoughts can deceive you, especially when you seek answers regarding something you want.” A measuring pause, “and you are twenty.” 

The words ignite a thunderclap of anger in the Force. But Obi-Wan does not stalk out of the room, or even turn away from Qui-Gon. His hand remains steady. He squeezes. “I am old enough to die, if I must. I am old enough to kill, if I must. These things are expected of me. You expect these things of me. Yet I am not old enough to understand when, and with whom, I can make love?”

_Make love_. Qui-Gon smiles, despite himself. He takes the hand in both his own, and kisses the knuckles. He feels the scars there, forged from hard-won battles. Obi-Wan has seen terrible things. It is inevitable that he will see worse things in the future. “You and I are not supposed to make love, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan cradles his face and kisses him. His lips are warm, patient, exploring. 

Qui-Gon loves him completely. 

“I’ve meditated on this,” he repeats, “it always ends the same.”

He is melting against Obi-Wan’s mouth. It’s so easy, suddenly, to pick him up and settle him onto his lap, their naked cocks separated by the thin sheet. He doesn’t realize he is crying at all until Obi-Wan begins kissing the tears. 

He does not deserve such tenderness or devotion. He has corrupted the most sacred thing he has ever been given...he has…

Obi-Wan tucks an errant strand of hair behind Qui-Gon’s ear. “I told you, it’s alright.” He soothes, and Qui-Gon recognizes that this is the stronger Obi-Wan, the fearless Obi-Wan. “You don’t need to worry about me, Master. You could never hurt me.”

He is holding Obi-Wan, but it is Obi-Wan who embraces him, lays Qui-Gon’s head against his chest. Qui-Gon digs his fingers into Obi-Wan’s back and sobs. 

He is undone. He is afraid.

Obi-Wan loves him, would kill for him, die for him.


End file.
